


The Monstrous Deeds Of Humanity

by blue_idiot



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Death, Elves aren’t treated nice, Gen, Lynching, Mentions of Racism, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, basically it’s only mentioned, could be read as platonic if you want, just a bit, neither are Witchers, no beta reader we die like men, only reason Geralt/Jaskier tag is there is because I’m a sucker for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22325245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_idiot/pseuds/blue_idiot
Summary: Southern trees bear a strange fruitBlood on the leaves and blood at the rootBlack bodies swinging in the southern breezeStrange fruit hanging from the poplar treesPastoral scene of the gallant SouthThe bulging eyes and the twisted mouthScent of magnolia, sweet and freshThen the sudden smell of burning fleshHere is a fruit for the crows to pluckFor the rain to gather, for the wind to suckFor the sun to rot, for the tree to dropHere is a strange and bitter cropStrange Fruit By Abel MeeropolJaskier and Geralt stumble upon the monstrous deeds of humanity.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 111





	The Monstrous Deeds Of Humanity

**Author's Note:**

> We were going over the “Strange Fruit” poem by Abel Meeropol in class and I kept thinking bout the line “The bulging eyes and twisted mouths” and I recently got into the Witcher fandom so I decided to write this. 
> 
> The poem is about the lynchings of African Americans in the United States.
> 
> Again: mentions of racism and death.

They’ve been heading towards Novigrad, not for the city, but for little towns and villages on the outskirts of it as they didn’t have enough money to stay at an inn in a city. They were looking for jobs, or Geralt was. Unfortunately no monsters seemed on the hunt for poor unsuspecting villagers so their efforts were in vain. Though Jaskier managed to gather a couple gold from playing in taverns, enough to buy some bread and have a few gold left over (Geralt insisted that Jaskier put the meat back and only buy the bread). 

“I imagine the village east for here needs help, they’ve always been susceptible to monster attacks.” Geralt grunted in thanks as he hefted himself onto Roach. Jaskier smiled.

“Thanks,” he said. Once he was sure Jaskier was ready to go, Geralt kicked Roach’s flank lightly, and she started to walk. They headed east. 

And that’s how they got here, passing by the last farm in the village they were in and into the woods towards a new one, hopefully one that needed monsters dead. 

Jaskier huffed as he almost tripped on another root, Geralt snorted, a small smirk on his face. Jaskier glared at him trying to hold back the smile on his face. He failed and a laugh came from between his mouth causing spit to fly everywhere and Geralt to give a soft chuckle and eyes darting to look at him and then back to the path. Roach bobbed her head up and down and snorted too, joining in with the two men. Geralt shook his head, hair flying and once he was done he was back to his stoic facade.

“The sun is going to set soon, we better set up camp.” Jaskier nodded breathing a sigh of relief, tired of walking. 

They soon found a small clearing and they stopped there, Roach being hitched to a tree a little way back, but still in view of the camp and his lute laying against a tree. Geralt looked at him as pulled the luggage off of Roach and said, “go gather firewood.” Jaskier nodded, heading to exit the clearing.

“Jaskier!” He turned back and a sheathed dagger was thrown at him. Flailing his arms around, trying to catch it only to have it hit his chest and fall to the floor, he bent down grabbing it and looked at back Geralt in confusion. The Witcher ignores him and begins to sharpen his blade. Jaskier sighs and pockets it, albeit a bit awkwardly as the only pockets there are on his jacket and the blade’s handle poked out a bit, but oh well, what can you do? 

He looked around for sticks and branches that seemed big enough to maintain a fire but small enough that he can carry. It was starting to get dark and Jaskier could smell the scent that rain usually carried and the wind picked up blowing his hair in front of his face. He sputtered as hair landed in his mouth. Thankfully the wind changed direction and that’s when he smelled it. A rotting smell, sickly sweet and nauseating. He paled and every part of his body told him to run. The smell overcame him and he covered his nose. The wind stopped but he could still smell it. He put the firewood carefully down and wandered further, sniffing the air. He followed it.

Wandering further into the woods the scent got stronger. He finally got to the point where it was suffocating and as he turned one direction his foot stepped onto something that squished under his shoe. He looked down to see was he stepped in only to stumble back in horror at the face staring back at him. He looked at the corpse.

It stared at him, mouth open and full of insects that decided to use the corpse as shelter or food, at the mushrooms growing next to the body, the bones and muscles showing. He looked at the neck which he stepped on that easily gave way under his foot. And he stepped back further only to catch sight of more bodies, these ones piled on top of each other. He felt like he was going to be sick.

Quickly walking backwards from the bodies, and once they were a good few feet away he turned and ran towards camp. 

Once he was able to see Roach he nearly sobbed in relief. He picked up his pace and screamed.

“Geralt!” 

And he burst through a bush into the clearing to see Geralt standing already and grabbing his sword. 

“Geralt.” The Witcher’s head snapped towards him and Jaskier could just stare at him, tears welling in his eyes much to his (and the Witcher’s) horror. He stumbled closer causing Geralt to drop the sword and march towards him, grabbing his shoulder and worry etched on his face. 

“Jaskier, what’s wrong.” He opened his mouth to reply, no sound. He tried again.

“Bodies.” He pointed to the direction from where he came. Geralt looked where he was pointing, grabbed his sword, and squeezed his shoulder.

“Where?” 

Geralt looked on, face neutral as he saw the bodies; Jaskier stood by him, numb. He sighed and put his sword down. 

“We need to bury them.” And so they did.

Much to Jaskier’s absolute horror, all the bodies were of those of elves. They looked as if they were stabbed and then left to rot. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Geralt examined the body that was farther from the others (Jaskier would later come to the conclusion that they were probably killed there on the spot, forced to watch, and that one elf tried to run away.)

“They look to be a month old. Stabbed probably, hard to tell,” he paused, “elves.”

Jaskier felt sick, to think that they were left there without even a burial. Geralt hefted the last body into its own little grave Jaskier dug. 

They collected flowers to lay on each one. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


That night, Jaskier attempted to fall asleep. He tossed and turned, but whenever he closed his eyes he saw the faces of the elves behind his eyes and the stench of death washed over him. It was enough that Geralt grunted his name and patted the dirt beside him. Jaskier took his offer and picked up his bedroll and moved it so it was besides Geralt’s, maybe a little too close, but he needed the comfort. And as he laid down and Geralt pulled him close Jaskier let out a shaky sigh, squeezing his eyes shut and tried to focus on the Witcher’s heart beat instead of the persistent smell of decay or the bugs crawling in mouths or the feeling of a neck easily give way under his foot or the thump of a body hitting the ground in the grave or the sight of dirt covering a corpse.

Sure, Jaskier has seen death, when traveling with a Witcher you need to get used to it, but he’s never seen a body, a body that was just left to rot, someone stripped of their dignity. 

In the morning they continued their way towards the town, leaving behind the mounds of dirt. Jaskier looked back at the dirt with sad eyes and continued on. 

  
  
  


They were nearing the edge of the woods according to Geralt when the stench of death appeared again. Jaskier stiffened, and so did Geralt. They kept walking, and then they saw the body hanging from a tree. The head was bent in an unnatural way, eyes bulging out of their sockets, mouth open allowing a bird to pick at the tongue of the man, it cawed when it saw them and flew off. Jaskier heard Geralt take a sharp inhale, and that’s when he saw it. The wolf pendant, something only Witcher’s wore. Jaskier looked at Geralt, only to see the expressionless face he always had. 

He looked back at the body, then the man next to him, and took his hand and squeezed, offering his comfort. A few moments passed of Jaskier holding the slack grip of Geralt and staring at the floor, not wanting to make eye contact with the hanged man before him. And Geralt squeezed Jaksier’s hand tight, painful, but Jaskier only squeezed back just as hard. And then they set to work undoing the rope and burying the dead Witcher. 

  
  


This time, Geralt walked next to Jaskier, leading Roach. After a couple minutes they entered the village. Eyes turned towards them and glared when they landed on Geralt. And it hit Jaskier, these villagers were the ones to kill the elves and the other Witcher. He wanted to leave, to take Geralt away from this disgusting place. 

When he spotted the blacksmith, who was holding a long sword, glaring at Geralt Jaskier puffed out his chest and glared right back him. Geralt kept his eyes in front of him. 

They made their way towards the tavern, Geralt making sure his horse was tied loosely so if anyone decided to try and hurt the poor thing Roach would run away; she was a smart girl, she knew when to run. 

When they entered the tavern, everyone’s eyes turned towards them and Jaskier stood in front of Geralt and was practically back to stomach, glaring at all of them, hand on his dagger that Geralt gifted him. 

Geralt eyed the bard but took a seat at the bar, Jaskier sitting close to him, glaring at anyone who so much as breathed wrong, before relaxing as everyone slowly turned to look away. They asked the man in charge if there was a monster needed killing, to which he replied.

“The only monster needing killing is you.” Jaskier wanted to leave. And they did, they heading out of the tavern only to be approached by a crowd of people. 

“Get the fuck out of here you god damn abomination!” He spit at Geralt’s feet. He remained calm, Jaskier, however, was not. 

“Did you kill them?!” They turned to look at the bard and laugh.

“Don’t know what your talking bout, pretty thing.” Jaskier huffed. 

“The elves? The Witcher?” One man stepped forward.

“Yeah! Those elves had the audacity to walk into town and then insult one of us! They deserved what was coming,” he said. Another piped up. 

“And the Witcher, he decided it was okay to fight back. That damn animal needed to be put down.” Someone threw a rock at Geralt, who remained still and passive.

“Don’t worry, we’re leaving.” And with that Geralt grabbed the bard’s arm and walked calmly towards his horse, and hefted him up on the saddle. Jaskier looked down at him shocked. Another rock was thrown, this one hitting Geralt in the head. Jaskier whipped around to glare at the crowd. Geralt climbed up on top of the saddle, behind Jaskier hunching over him, which Jaskier was pissed about, how dare Geralt think to protect him yet not himself. He felt offended, so he grabbed his dagger, unsheathed it, and threw it at the crowd. Unfortunately it didn’t hit anyone, and Roach galloped away. 

  
  
  


  
After running from the town, they made camp miles away from it. They sat around the fire, eating a rabbit Geralt had hunted. Jaskier stared at the other man who was lost to the world, meditating.

“Your used to it, aren’t you?” No answer. “All the,” he waved his hands around trying to find a word, “insults and attacks.” Gold eyes locked onto his. And they looked so so sad Jaskier’s heart ached and we wanted to cry for the man.

“Yes.” He looked back into the fire. Jaskier stood up, and plopped down next to him, Geralt turned towards him in confusion, only to be hugged. He felt Geralt stiffen, then slowly relax and lean into his embrace.

He remembers what the elf said. 

_ “My elders worked with humans and got robbed of all they had. And when they fought back, they were slaughtered. "The Great Cleansing," humans call it. I called it digging a mass grave for everyone I loved. And now the humans proudly watch these very fields grow our babies fertilizer for their grain. I don't wish to bury anyone else.” _

  
Never before has he hated his fellow man than right now. 

**Author's Note:**

> So I might be put in the FBI watchlist because of my google searches about dead bodies. 
> 
> On a serious note, this isn’t meant to be offensive and me making fun of racism in any way shape or form. Racism isn’t something to laugh about and is a very serious issue. It’s extremely sad to think about that people are just treated different because their skin color and/or heritage. Something they have no control over. 
> 
> Comments, kudos, and constructive criticism is extremely welcome.


End file.
